Five Photos Andrea Hopes She'll See
by gagewhitney
Summary: Aren't there some things from this life she'd like to remember? full title: Five Photos Andrea Hopes She'll See and One She Keeps in Her Pocket


Title: Five Photos Andrea Hopes She'll See (and One She Keeps in Her Pocket)

Author: GageWhitney

Rating: M

Pairing: Daryl/Andrea

Disclaimer: Very much not mine.

Summary: Aren't there some things from this life she'd like to remember?

Note: So, yeah. It's a lot of fluff. Wanna make something of it? ;-)

* * *

><p>In an abandoned supermarket, Andrea finds a disposable camera still hanging from a little plastic clip on a check-out line.<p>

It's stupid, she thinks, to take it. What's she going to do with it, anyway? Run down to the corner drugstore and drop off the film for one-hour processing?

Still, though. What if?

What if the world goes back to normal one day, she thinks, or at least some approximation of it, and she's able to get the film developed? Aren't there some things from this life she'd like to remember?

She wishes she had a picture of Amy. She wishes she had a picture of Dale, or Jacqui, or any of the others they'd lost. She wishes she had a picture of those few and far between times they'd all been happy and safe. She wishes she had something to look at during tough times that she could smile about.

She wishes she had a picture of someone she loves.

An old song suddenly springs to mind, and she feels the corners of her mouth pull up. Under her breath, she says, "Mama, don't take my Kodachrome away."

Andrea takes the camera and hums Paul Simon the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>1.<p>

They set up camp one sunny afternoon on top of a hill. There's a river nearby and they're in a good position to spot any walkers that might come upon them, so it seems as good a place as any to stop for a few days.

Andrea takes watch on top of the RV while, below, tents are set up and dinner is prepared. Sometime later, Daryl climbs up the vehicle's ladder and drops into the folding chair beside her.

"Dinner," he says, passing her a plate of unidentified-but-most-likely-squirrel meat. He takes a long drink from the canteen at her hip before starting in on his own food.

"Thanks, she says.

She lets the binoculars dangle around her neck while she eats, her eyes darting up to the sweep the perimeter every few minutes anyway. He fills her in on the plan he and Rick had discussed, and she nods and hums and gives him feedback.

At some point, she twists around to see what's happening on the other side of them, and gasps at the view.

"What?" Daryl asks, immediately on the defensive.

She waves him off. "No, it's nothing," she says. "It's just… look how beautiful that is."

She gestures in the general direction of the setting sun, all shades of pink and orange and yellow streaked across the sky. Daryl seems to consider it for a moment before deciding a very inelegant, "Yeah."

Rolling her eyes, she digs for the disposable camera in her canvas purse. "Cynic," she accuses, and takes a photo of the scene before her.

He shrugs. "Don't need a sunset to see something beautiful."

She rolls her eyes again, this time at the cheesiness of his comment, but grins and leans in to kiss him anyway.

* * *

><p>2.<p>

There's something about the guys standing around with various forms of weaponry – Rick, with his pistol on his hip, Glenn, holding a shotgun, Daryl, with his ever-present crossbow and T-Dog, hefting a pickaxe – that she wants to capture.

"Guys, get together," she says, digging the camera out of her bag.

"What? Why?" asks Glenn, brow furrowed.

She gestures that they should stand closer together. "I just want to get a picture of you guys, that's all. You look so… rugged."

They laugh at her, but move in close. "Rugged, huh?" Daryl smirks.

"It reminds me of one of those old-timey Western photos," she shrugs. "Everyone standing around all dirty and armed to the teeth."

Rick chuckles. "Like Deadwood, without the moustaches and brothels."

"Exactly," she says. "Okay, don't smile!"

The guys strike a very serious pose, hands on their weapons and belts, and she snaps the photo.

"Perfect," she grins. "Wyatt Earp has nothing on you guys."

"Wyatt fucking Earp," T-Dog muses. "Wonder how he would've done up against walkers?"

* * *

><p>3.<p>

Lori goes into labor on a Wednesday morning in a house belonging to someone they never knew.

Andrea acts as midwife, with Carol and Maggie assisting. With the exception of Rick, the men wait in the living room, pacing around like it's some bizarre version of a maternity ward from the 1950s.

Hours later, Lori and Rick's daughter, Judith, arrives. One everyone's settled and cleaned up, the men are allowed into the room, and Andrea digs out the little disposable camera.

She takes a photo of the entire Grimes family surrounding their new addition, tired and smiling and forgetting, in their celebration of a new life, that the dead are walking around outside.

"Let's get one of Judith and Aunt Andrea," Lori suggests. "You're the one who helped bring her into the world, after all."

Andrea smiles sheepishly, but nods her head. Handing the camera off to Daryl, she scoops the baby up from her mother's arms and holds her carefully against her chest.

"All right, Auntie," Daryl drawls. "Smile big, now."

She gives him a wide smile and waits for him to take the picture. In the back of her mind, she wonders if she and Daryl will ever get to have photos of their own children.

* * *

><p>4.<p>

Daryl doesn't even realize she's got the camera out until the flash goes off.

"Hey, it still works!"

"Girl, are you seriously taking sex pictures?" he asks as she giggles uncontrollably. "I look like Tommy Lee to you or something?"

She looks at him with wide eyes and presses her lips together, trying to control her laughter. "Well," she finally manages. "You've got some tattoos, but –"

"Don't even finish that thought," he says. He grabs her and flips her over so he's on top of her, silencing her laughter with a long, hard kiss. "You know, that'd make you Pamela Anderson."

She snorts. "Please don't compare me to Pamela Anderson."

"What?" He makes a show of looking her over. "You're blonde. You're prettier than she is." She grins, and he shifts his gaze downward. "Her tits are bigger, though."

She punches his shoulder. "Hey! She has fake boobs!" Andrea cries. "Very obvious fake boobs, I might add."

"Yeah, that's true." He dips his head and kisses a path across her breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth. "I like your tits better."

"Oh, you're so sweet," she says, faux-swooning. "'Dear Diary…'"

He kisses her to make her stop. "Shut up."

"Well, for what it's worth…" She reaches down and takes him in her hand, making a quick pass up and down his shaft. "I like your cock better than Tommy Lee's."

"Hell yeah," he says, victorious. He reaches over to where she'd placed the camera and holds it up to his face. "Say cheese!"

"Daryl!" she laughs, making a too-late grab for the camera. The flash goes off and she's blinded temporarily.

"Gotcha," he smirks, replacing the camera.

"You did not just take a naked picture of me!"

"You took one of me!" he retorts. He stretches out above her again. "Don't worry about it. You look sexy as hell."

"You are sweet, sometimes," she says, kissing him. "You just better hope that photo never sees the light of day."

He chuckles against her mouth, and when he thrusts into her, she forgets how embarrassing the day that photo gets developed will be.

* * *

><p>5.<p>

Early one morning, waiting for the rest of the group to get ready to roll, she sits with Daryl on the back of his motorcycle, her arms loose around his middle, hands resting on his stomach. Tiredly, she rests her cheek against the textured angel wings on the back of his leather vest and closes her eyes.

Carol wanders over to them from the truck she'd been sharing with T-Dog and smiles at the pair.

"Andrea, can I see your bag for a minute?" she asks.

Andrea blinks rapidly and gives her a confused look, but removes the bag from around her shoulder and passes it to the other woman. "Sure…"

Carol digs in the canvas bag for the little camera she'd seen her toting around and grins when she pulls it out. "Okay, you two. Watch the birdie!"

Daryl snorts, giving her a half smile, while Andrea presses herself closer to his back, her lips pressed together contentedly. Carol advances the film, looks through the viewfinder, and snaps a photo.

"That's lovely," she says. She replaces the camera and hands the bag back to Andrea. "I hope we get to see it one day."

"Me, too," Andrea says wistfully. She lets her eyes drift shut again.

* * *

><p>1.<p>

They're settling into yet another house, going through other people's belongings, when she finds it.

In the bottom drawer of an old dresser is a Polaroid camera, a sealed pack of film and a shoebox filled with photos of strangers beside it.

It reminds Andrea of her youth, of all the photos taken of her with Amy, with their parents and grandparents and friends. Her eyes well with tears as she remembers posing and saying cheese all those times, and she wishes she had just one of those old photos back.

She sniffles and wipes away the moisture on her face, then sits on the bed with the camera and the film pack. Somewhere in the recesses of her memory, she recalls how to open the Polaroid and load the film. When the camera seems to come to life, she grins widely.

"Daryl!" she calls, knowing he's somewhere downstairs. When she doesn't get a response, she yells for him again. "Daryl, can you come up here?"

"I'm coming!" She hears him bounding up the stairs and walking swiftly down the hall to their room.

He enters the room and eyes her cautiously. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine," she says brightly. She holds up the Polaroid. "Look what I found."

"Well, hell," he drawls, coming to sit beside her on the mattress. "I haven't seen one of those in years."

"You guys have one growing up?"

Daryl makes a face. "Merle… came by one once," he explains, and she snorts a laugh. "Had fun with it for a while, though."

She nods. "Me, too." She bumps her shoulder with his and says, "Come on, let's test this thing out."

She leans in closer to him, and he puts an arm around her waist. Awkwardly, she tries to hold the camera out far enough to get them both in it, experimentally leaning backwards before he grabs it from her.

"Let me," he says. He holds it at arms length. "You ready?"

"Do it!" she cries, right before the flash goes off.

The camera spits out the undeveloped photo, and she pulls it out, waving it out of some long-ago habit. Satisfied that it appears to be doing something, she places it on the bed behind them.

"One more," she says.

She presses closer to him and, with a small, giddy laugh, smiles up at the camera. Right before he pushes the shutter, he kisses her cheek.

"You sneak," she giggles.

He pulls the film out of the camera and smirks at her. Then, together, they sit on the mattress, shaking their Polaroids until the photos start to become clear.

"Look!" She holds the first photo out to him. "The colors are a little off, but it worked." She stares at the photo, at the genuinely happy looks on their faces, and can feel her eyes start to well up again. "Wow. Look at us."

"Yeah," he says. He hands her the photo he took, showing his surprise kiss and her resulting delighted grin. "Look at us."

They each keep a photo in their pocket.


End file.
